Bees
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: After "the birds and the bees" comes… Well, more bees. -Ten 2.0/Rose fluff-


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who.

**Author's Note: **I felt super stupid writing this fic. 8D; I'm sure some of you will figure out why, eh heh. orz I don't actually like this name much, but it just… fits well. XD; Sorry? Anyway… Have some fluffy fluff fluffity fluff~

**Warnings: **I've only seen through season four—not even the specials, yet—, so if there are any discrepancies with info obtained in later episodes, please forgive me. XD; Since this is only my second time writing for the series, there is the distinct possibility of OOCness. Shout-out to OCs. Thank you, Wikipedia, for making research easy and, I hope, marginally accurate. Ten 2.0/Rose. Crap editing. Messed around a little with denoting Rose's accent, based on a suggestion; hopefully that's not too distracting. Derp.

**Dedication: **For IDK mah bff Hannah. Thank you for enduring my incessant Doctor Who-slash-Ten/Rose text-spamming over these past few weeks. ILU BBY. XD

**XXX**

**Bees**

**XXX**

"Are you serious about this?"

"I'm _always_ serious."

"Always a bit loony, more like."

"Some say there is a fine line between brilliance and insanity. And since I am, as you know, fantastically brilliant, it only makes sense that I might… shall we say, toe that line, every once in a while."

"Or hop rope with it daily."

"If I might retort with words slightly-less genius than my own: 'I have usually found that there was method in his madness.'"

"'Some folk might say there was madness in his method.' Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, yeah? Nice choice, considerin'. You're doing just what Sherlock Homes did, you know? Retire from a life of mysteries and craziness to raise _bees_. With all of the different futures I've visited, I still can't say I saw that comin'."

"I didn't leave _to_ raise bees. That's just a delightful bonus. They were disappearing, you know. Dying out, on the other side."

"But you said those weren't the real bees that'd gone. It was the other ones—the alien ones. They went back t' their planet."

"So I did. But what about _this_ world? I haven't had a chance to research bee-statistics, what with everything else. Either way, this universe—all of the universes— have lost quite enough species, I think. Best to help repopulate, if we can."

"Is that what you think you're doing? Helpin' along the bees?"

"Well, they deserve that much, at least, don't they? Poor things. I love 'em—you know, they've got a stinger, for defense, yes? But they can't actually _use_ it, you see, unless they're prepared to die. The stinger itself is barbed in such a way that it'll rip the bee clean apart if it pricks a creature with skin as thick as a mammals'. That's good. Well, not good for any non-suicidal bee, I suppose. But that's the way it should be, isn't it? Hurting someone… that shouldn't be easy. Repercussions like that are important… puts things in perspective. Helps us remember that we can make do without. No weapons. Just peace and flowers. And honey. I like honey— it's good with peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

"Mmm, I'd rather have my peanut butter with pickles, thanks."

"That's because your taste buds have gone temporarily offline, as far as I'm concerned."

"Really? Nine hundred years of travelin' and taste-testing the questionable and oftentimes constipating food of other planets, and peanut butter and pickle sandwiches is what finally turns you off?"

"Rose, you are one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I would cross galaxies and bend realities for your sake… but those things you call sandwiches are a violation against all things natural and decent. They are the mealtime equivalent of Captain Jack Harkness."

"Oh! That reminds me, you should plant some Jack in the Pulpit. Right there—right by the little koi pond. Next to the jewel-weed."

"Well, see, if you want more flowers, we'll _definitely_ be needing more bees, then. Don't want to overwork the wee creatures, eh?"

"I suppose more wouldn't hurt. If you keep your—what's it called, apiary—away from the swing set. It'll help the flowers, anyway. The roses didn't do so good, last year. Mum was complainin'."

"And 'what a lovely thing a rose is! Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But the rose is an extra. Its smell and its colour are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras.'"

"Doyle again? It's weird for you to borrow so many other people's words when you've usually got so much t' say on your own."

"Well, he was a good bloke. Hella fun at a party—real knack for charades. Always good for a laugh, old Arty."

"I'm sure. But I dunno if I really believe you were talkin' about the flower, what with how you're looking at me."

"Oh, does it matter? 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…' Or as much like chips, I expect."

"Pft, sod off. …but speaking of names— and repopulating, too, I suppose— have you thought of anything? I got first pick last time, and I'm nothing if not fair. So—"

"Melissa."

"…that was fast. Or are you just throwin' out the name of the first thing you see?"

"Ah, you noticed? Yes, they've finally bloomed! Melissa officinalis—or balm, as the laymen and casual gardeners call it. Grew this patch for the bees, since they're full of nectar. Famous for attracting 'em. Amazing plant, just amazing… They have a calming effect if thrown into herbal tea, and medicinally, they've been shown to improve moods and mental performances. Always need a hand in that regard, don't they, human beings? Brilliant! They can be used in fruits salad and candy, as well. Or to flavor ice cream."

"Or as somethin' to tickle someone's nose with, it seems."

"It's as versatile as it is fantastic. Reminds you a bit of New Earth, doesn't it? It's not apple-scented, the leaves of it, but it does have a lemony zest. And aren't the flowers sweet? Here, you can have this one to decorate your ear. I'm sure the bees won't mind sharing."

"So you want to name our daughter… after a plant."

"And what a lovely plant it is! Look, it's even growing by the roses. Perfect, eh?"

"Are you sure you— …well, wouldn't you rather name her something… I dunno, something spacey? Like, maybe a name from—"

"She will be a child of this world, and should be named as such."

"…y-yeah…"

"Besides! This name isn't just grounded to Earth! Oh, no, no, no! No, you humans—you wonderful, brilliant things, always trying to reach the stars before they fall on you—you're bringing the name with you, up there! Did you know, the ESA ESTEC Thermal and Environmental Control Section has been trying to build a self-renewing life-support system for space travel that would create edible treats, water, and air from waste? They call it the Micro-Ecological Life Support System Alternative— MELiSSA. A clever acronym for more reasons than one, seeing as the name itself has been historically associated with periodic regeneration. According to mythology, anyway."

"Regeneration… huh."

"Yep, the good ol' Greeks. The good ol' Greek Porphyry, in this case, specifically."

"And what did… Porkery… have to say? In this case, specifically."

"Well, what he wrote was actually a bit, uh, gruesome… But the long of the short of it is that a priestess with a certain name got killed, but then came back buzzing. He also claimed Melissa was another name for Artemis, the goddess they assigned to the moon, and who was responsible for painless childbirth in mothers."

"Ooo, I like her already."

"Thought you might. It's said bees were a symbol for human souls, and that this particular Melissa controlled those souls, calling them down into the bodies of those to be born. Spark of life, etcetera. Important sorts of stuff."

"And now we're back to bees."

"Well, that's not surprising, since that's what the name means. It's Greek for honeybee. Rightly so, too. In another story—the most famous one—, it's said Melissa was the name of a nymph who was transformed into a worm by Cronus as a punishment for hiding away the son he wanted to snack on. Later, she was turned into a honeybee by said son—Zeus— as a reward. Isn't that smashing? It's said she was quite lovely. And think of all the fresh honey and toast everyone got to enjoy as a result."

"Is that the plan, then? Two birds with one stone? Or bees, as it were… Repopulate the world with bees and babies at the same time?"

"Oh, come on! It's a good name! Listen, these nymphs—Melissa specifically— had their praises sung in all the folklore of the Greeks. Harbingers of sophistication, they were. They trained cultural heroes and taught all sorts of civilizing skills and behaviors. They were said to have tamed men… to have brought them out of the wild, and to have rid them of their feral nature. Calmed them. Introduced them to modesty. Sound familiar, eh?"

"I'll concede that you've adapted adequately to livin' in London. Helps that you still get to run about bein' called 'Doctor,' even if it's in a hospital, now."

"Exactly. I'm all about the mundane. Daily life? A nine to five job and buying tennis shoes and nightly telly and grocery shopping? Bliss. Totally docile, I am— the oncoming storm has passed. And who do we have to thank for that?"

"Me, for my many years of patience and tender love and care?"

"Besides you."

"My parents, for givin' us the money we needed for you to take the proper tests for your degree? And to help us with buyin' this place?"

"Besides _them_."

"...well… well, there's the…"

"Nymphs. We have nymphs to thank."

"...do we."

"We _do_. Melissa herself taught the people of Greece how to mix honey and water—brought all of Europe a step closer to tea! Well, the Chinese probably already had tea, by then. Tea and fireworks and watches. The Chinese have always managed to stay a step ahead of the rest… which may or may not be my fault, but that's another story. You should thank her, nonetheless."

"So… to sum up, you want to name our baby after a plant, an undeveloped system that turns human waste into food, and a nymph who got herself stuck in a worm-body."

"Is that _really _all you took from this pitch?"

"Not _all _of it… But I know you well enough to realize that when you're hell-bent on sharing a million stories, it's because there's one in particular you're trying to hide. What is it? What's the _real _reason?"

"…"

"Doctor…?"

"…after they left the Earth, the bees returned to their planet— Melissa Majoria. They went home. And in making that harrowing journey across time and space, they scattered the breadcrumbs that led _me_ home, as well. They left the Tandocca Trail. If they hadn't returned to Melissa Majoria, I wouldn't have figured out what the Daleks were doing. I'd never have been able to find you lot, much less pick up on the signal of your distress call. It's almost like Bad Wolf—those words that kept finding you, and in so doing brought us back together. Isn't that something to celebrate? Isn't that how Conan got _his_ name?"

"...so we've got ourselves one wolf, and one honeybee. We're not having kids. We're having a zoo."

"What, with just two animals? That's a rather poor excuse for a zoo, don't you think?"

"Well, we're not havin' more 'til I'm done with this one."

"Oh? But after that, we _will_?"

"…incorrigible. That's what you are."

"But you married me all the same."

"That's why I'm the stupid ape in this relationship. Or zoo. This metaphor is getting weird."

"And hey, with me as the hybrid result of a human-Time Lord meta-crisis, that means we have four distinct exhibits. Full house."

"It'll certainly feel it… once Melissa comes 'round."

"Hey! Does that mean I've got approval? It's a good name, isn't it?"

"As someone I know likes to say… Fantastic."

"Ahhh~! Yes, fantastic! I love you, Rose Tyler."

"Yeah, you better. Well, go tend to your bees, then."

"Gladly."

"Wha—no! _Those _bees, not—! Ha, that tickles! Get off, I'm trying to eat my sandwich, you loon…!"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. No, you're not eating that monstrosity. I'm making the both of you something _palatable_ for supper."

"Yeah? Can whatever you make have pears in it, then? I have a real craving for 'em."

"…like I said before. Your taste buds are obviously offline. That's no good. Time to go inside, now—I'll use that stalk of balm you've kept safe to flavor something decent. We can't have you irreparably damaging our child with your pear-eating ways."

"You know, I thought _apples_ were supposed to keep doctors away. So I don't get why you hate pears so much. Especially since you smell like pears. Taste like 'em, too, sometimes."

"…you're kidding."

"Nope."

"No, you must be. How can that even—? I _hate_ pears, I never eat them… And people don't taste or smell like fruit, naturally. Pregnancy does a number of medically fascinating things to the female body… the influx of chemicals in your system is probably to blame. Either that or you're crazy."

"Maybe. Could go either way. But you still do. Smell like pears, I mean. Tasted like 'em earlier an' everything. And… I still want pears."

"...you don't say."

"Oh, yes. I've got a real craving for 'em. I just wanna _devour _one… Or, in a pinch, something of that flavor. Really _savor_ it—maybe forget all of those manners that the nymphs taught us and just go _wild _on it… Make a big, beautiful, sticky _mess _of it_, _then lick everything up clean, yeah?"

"Uh—uh-huh…"

"So… are you just gonna stand there awkwardly gawking at me? And drooling? What was that about going into the hous—! Ah—!"

"Allons-y!"

**XXX**


End file.
